


The Atlas Burden

by Valiax



Category: The LEGO Movie (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Emotional Hurt, F/M, M/M, Multi, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, can't give out too much without spoiling, future trigger warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2533535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valiax/pseuds/Valiax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Responsibility is a heavy weight to carry on one’s shoulders, especially for the appointed Chief of Bricksburg, Good Cop Bad Cop. Yet a terrible secret surrounds the former Octan henchman, one that threatens to break the world on top of his shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something fun and different I thought I'd try out with the idea. In future chapters, if there is a trigger warning or sexual/graphic scene, I will place warnings in the notes section on top for you to acknowledge beforehand. This story is not connected to any of my other works of the same fandom.
> 
> \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Does that upset you, Bad Cop?”

  


The words were like a vice grip, keeping the leather clad police officer firmly planted where he stood and unable to do anything but stare on at a sight he wish he wasn’t witnessing. A hard lump formed in his throat, difficult to swallow much less speak at first. How could he? His jaw was clenched tight, seemingly unable for that brief moment in time to relax the muscles. A shuddering breath escaped through tensed, flared nostrils. Orders… he had orders and was helpless to deny them. Speak, man! Speak!

  


“I..um…” He started, eyes widen behind the darken aviator glasses could only stare on in fear.

  


Seeing his parents, Ma Cop and Pa Cop, partially frozen from the knee down by the strange mystical substance known as The Kragle, keeping the retired couple in place in front of a model of their country home. They looked on at their son with the same fear in their eyes.

  


Inside their shared mind, Good Cop wanted to lash out. try and save their parents before the crystal clear magical goo hardened like rock and trapping them forever. There was tension in those fisted hands, trembling as anger and fear grew. This was not part of the plan, their parents were suppose to be safe! Hadn’t they given Business enough loyalty and devotion that their parents would be spared from the tyrant’s growing reign of perfection and order? Finally, something kicked in.

  


“Ye-yes Sir.. I...uh.. Nngh..Yes! Yes it does! Lord Business this is not acceptable! They’ve done no wrong!” The Cops finally shouted as they turned around to face their employer, their boss and master; Lord Business. Instead, as Good Cop switches in, pocketing the aviators for normal glasses, somehow it feels like the world is frozen and it’s just him and Lord Business. The CEO of Octan, wearing that black and red lined visor off the giant helmet, staring down at them. Out from nothing it seemed, was a rod with white, fluffy like electrical sparks shooting from the far end. The Cops try to run for it, try to escape from that evil Relic in Business’s hand. No sooner as they tried to move, metallic hands of a few Executrons grasped each arm under the shoulder, keeping them firmly planted in place as the evil Lord Business loomed over them.

  


Somehow it seemed as if he became a monstrous giant, hands like claws, and the visor becoming more beast like, fanged mouth opening and closing in a sinister laugh.

  


“No more Mr. Nice Guy!” The Business monster shouted, voice distorted by the masked like face, and thrust the rod towards the Cops’ temple. There would be a flash of white… then screams of absolute pain.

  


/Good Cop!/

  
  


\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
  


With a sharp gasp, Good Cop lurched forward from the bed, blue eyes wide in fear with shock. It took him a few heavy breaths of air to realize this was not Lord Business’s Relic Room but his own shabby, quaint apartment bedroom.

  


A low rumble outside, and he turns his head to watch the ambient light of the city illuminate water drops rolling down the glass. The rain outside came down in gentle, rolling sheets. It would of been pleasing to sleep to if one wasn’t already a bundle of nerves. Good took in one more breath and quickly licked over his chapped lips for the former henchmen to recollect himself. A bad dream, just a bad dream twisting a bad memory. There was movement on the bed, followed by a light groan.

  


“G.? You awake?” Came a soft, if sleepy voice. Good would be greeted with a pair of hazel eyes trying to focus on the shirtless officer.

  


“Go back t’ sleep Emmet. T’was a bad dream.” Was his response, offering a weak smile.

  


“Okay if you say so. Wanna talk about it?”

  


Good merely shook his head. “Nah, I’m fine, just calming down.”

  


Emmet offered a smile back, then settled back down into his pillow. “Alright, if you say so. Wake me up if you need anything.”

  


“Thank ye Emmet. Go t’ sleep.”

  


It was no stranger that somehow Emmet of all people, would end up somehow becoming the cops’ lover. Everyone was hoping the Special, who saved the world from TAKOS Tuesday would stay together with Wyldstyle. Seems thought, just as she was insecure with her constant nickname changes, so too, was her relationship with Emmet. How on earth did the construction worked ended up with his former enemy was beyond anyone’s guess. The most common and widely accepted theory: the need to feel like both still belonged.

  


Once it sounded like Emmet was back to sleep again, Good Cop could reflect back on his nightmare. The memory of that fateful day, only altered to scare the poor man awake into a terrified stance. How long ago was it since then? Three months? Five? Not long enough as he reaches up to his temples, closing his eyes at feeling the raised webbing of electro-shock scars.

  


Good clenched his jaw, trying desperately to think away from the memory of pain and sadness. Eyes closed, trying to seek out in the darkness something happy to dwell on. Something.. he could keep close and never let go. As he opened his eyes back up, his vision goes directly towards the night stand.

  


There laying beside the alarm clock was his glasses and next to those… a pair of black and silver metal framed aviators, Bad Cop’s eyewear. But looking closer, the aviators seemed to be sporting a crack down the right side of the right frame. Only noticeable if one looked close enough, otherwise it looked just fine. Nothing misplaced or broken to the untrained eye. They sat there, the glasses looking to be held longer the other with fingerprints and light smudges. Still, gazing upon them both allowed Good Cop a small sigh before laying back down in bed.

  


“Goodnight… buddy.” He whispered, gazing at Bad Cop’s aviators before closing his eyes for much needed sleep.

  


Well, perhaps tomorrow would be better, for both of them. Now that he was no longer working for President Business, Emmet managed to somehow talk into getting the Cops work as chief of police for Bricksburg. Sure the pay wasn't as large as it was under Octan, but now they could be their own boss and perform real justice to the city, especially with the random encounters with the alien invader monsters, the Duplo.

  


Another perk was the allowance of keeping the BC-01. The cruiser was perfect between catching pesky run-of-the-mill criminals or obnoxious aliens on the ground of up in the air. It was hard to imagine the Cops without it in their patrols. The cruiser cut down on dispatch time, able to reach their destination faster than normal patrol units, especially with flight mode engaged.

  


As Good wiggles in place to get comfortable, he would be greeted by a pair of arms wrapping around that muscular chest, hands running through black dotted with silver chest hair. The officer released a deep sigh, smiling while Emmet cuddled up to the officer, resting his chin on Good’s shoulder. The cop’s hands reached up, cradling the other’s hands, running a thumb up and down over a few knuckles.

  


“Love you both.” Emmet whispered under his breath then settled in back to sleep.

  


Good Cop slowly dropped that smile into a frown of worry. How long till people start to notice… a difference? Maybe it was better not to dwell on it too much for now. For now, there was a job to do tomorrow. A life to continue, a life to support. Something to keep his thoughts off from thinking too much. 

  


“G’night Emmet.” The officer replied, voice lowered to a more gruffier, more authoritative tone, though it would not be the same as before. Finally, sleep returned to the cop, feeling safe and secure while tangled in another’s arms… for now.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another normal morning routine, or is it?
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Good Cop almost didn't feel the light kiss to his temple as morning dawned. 

 

He grumbles sluggishly before rolling the other way, snuggling deeper into the warm pillow. Emmet snickered at first, already up and at it with the old habit routine. He might be the Special and world hero, but being a hero didn't pay the bills… unless you’re Batman, then you are a show off. Leaning over, the construction worker gently pressed the side of his face to Good’s ear, inhaling once to the cop’s scent, a sly smile on his face.

 

“Wakey, wakey… Come on G. … WAKE UP!” Emmet shouts and proceeds to laugh when Good Cop jumps up and away in his bed, eyes wide and still dazed from sleep.

 

The officer blinked a few times then turns to his laughing partner before narrowing his eyes.

 

“Not funny Emmet. Not funny at all.” He said, frowning from hearing the old words of his other side being spoken by Emmet. Brought back a few unpleasant memories.

 

“Oh come on! You did that to me. I’m just returning the favor. Besides you two are sleeping in more often than usual. Everything okay?” Emmet asked as he gathers up laundry to toss in the basket outside the bathroom. Indeed, the Cops had been sleeping in more and more. If it wasn't for Emmet staying over on most nights, the majority of mornings would be spent scrambling to get to the station on time, much less stopping by for something to eat or drink beforehand. It was unlike the usual punctual officer to start slacking off, so something must of been up.

 

“Everything’s fine Emmet, really. I’m not sick if that’s what yer askin’. Just hard readjustin’ to being the chief of police and all. “ Good replied, shifting his legs to his side of the bed, reaching for his glasses.

 

“What about Bad Cop? He alright? Hasn't spoken much in a while. Not since.. well, you know.”

 

Good nearly dropped his glasses at the mention of his other half. A frown formed on his face, staring down at the old aviators. 

 

“He’s okay. Just… not interested in talkin’ much anymore.” Was his only reply.

 

“Why? Still embarrassed from when you guys worked for Business? G., I told you guys you’re in the clear! Everyone’s forgiven Business now that he’s taken a step down and only focused on running Octan. Surely, everyone will forgive you too! Just give the people a chance to see how awesome you both really are!” Emmet remarked, walking over to playful punch Good in the shoulder, getting a small smile out from the other.

 

“Ye think so?” Good asked, that smile growing more till it started to gain a small wobble on the right side of his face; a permanent scar of nerve damage caused from the electro shocks received from their time in Octan.

 

Emmet sat down next to the officer and gave him a big hug then a tender kiss to the forehead.

 

“I know so! Just do what Princess Unikitty always says, stay positive! You and Bad Cop are the best team cops this side of Bricksburg! There’s like… nothing you can’t do. Well maybe be able to master build but besides that you two are the best police officers… ever! At least to me you are. “ The Special explained, giving the other another hug to amplify those words.

 

Those words picked Good Cop up from his small moment of feeling down and out. Reaching up, he hugs Emmet back then pats a shoulder.

 

“Thanks Emmet. I sure am lucky to have someone like you to help us out in these small times of need. Heh, even a chief could always use a little back up every now and then.” Good said then turns to grab the aviators.

 

Turning the dark shades this way and that, he places them on. It took a few seconds but that unmistakable slight scowl was back on that face.

 

“How can we ever repay ye, Emmet?” Bad Cop asked, though his voice wasn't nearly as gruff and rough as it once was. There was a touch of softness in that voice that if not focused on in detail, was easily overlooked. 

 

“He-Hey! Morning Bad Cop! Been a while since you came out and about. I guess you’re letting Good help you both get back into the groove as Bricksburg Police Chief, eh? Anyways, you can repay me by making breakfast while I grab a shower. You make some killer pancakes… that aren’t really pancakes but um… you know? Those things that are made with spuds?” Emmet grinned at seeing the more dominant personality appear, only to sheepishly chuckle in trying to remember the dish.

 

Bad Cop raised an eyebrow for a moment then proceeded to let out a small snort of amusement. “Ye mean my Mummy’s Irish potato fritters? That’s gonna take us a while t’make. Ye sure you’d rather want t’ wait fer the weekend when both of us aren't workin’?” 

 

That got Emmet to pause for a moment. He blinked once, staring at Bad Cop for a second or two before jumping up into the air in surprise.

 

“Oh shoot! I forgot, oh Man Upstairs… we’re gonna be late for work!” He shouts and rushes to use the shower, if only to trip over himself and a lazily kicked off shoe from the night before. This got the officer a quiet moment before smirking and finally letting out a few good chuckles. Well, no time like the present. Bad Cop gets out from his bed, stretching out the arms before proceeding to throw his uniform on. At least the police station had constantly hot showers available for the officers working there. At one point, the Cops could grab a shower and be out the door of the their apartment before six in the morning. That was when they worked at Octan. Now the hours were more reasonable even if the pay wasn't as large as the payroll they received from Octan.

 

Geared up in that tell-tale black leather jacket and motorcycle helmet, the Cops were ready to head out the door, but not before making up a small breakfast to last the first few hours till lunch break. Right on cue for the toast to pop out from the toaster, here comes the construction worker, dressed in his recognizable bright hazard orange and yellow striped uniform. Poor Emmet barely had time to comb down his hair, the front in a slight cow lick style. Bad Cop merely shakes his head with a small chuckle at the sight while slathering butter and jam on the toast. 

 

“Oh my G.O.S.H.! I am so going to be late! Oh man!” Emmet panicked, hastily trying to put his boots on.

 

“Relax, yer not gonna be late Emmet. Ye still have a good half hour till ye need t’ clock in.” Bad responded. Before the other could get another word in, his mouth was shoved with a slice of orange marmalade covered toast. “ ‘Ere eat this, you’ll feel better. Coffee’s been filled in yer thermos, don’t go spendin’ money on that overpriced junk they sell downtown.”

 

Bad sipped his own his own coffee in one of those fake take-out coffee cups. No one bothered to ask why he started using one of those things, so the question was never brought up. He quietly watched as the other nearly chokes on breakfast while he brought up a chuckle. 

 

“Thanks B.!” Emmet managed to say. Toast devoured travel mugs re-filled for the day ahead, the pair soon departed for their respected jobs. Emmet’s small car looked even smaller compared to parking next to the much larger BC-01. The cruiser just received a new set of tires, the rims still showing off a showroom finish along the sides. Of course, the tires won’t last, they never really do. Between racing car pursuits throughout the city or the rough touchdowns when descending from flight mode, the BC-01 went through rubber like it was going out of style. The price tag wasn't cheap either being custom made jet tires to fit the unique car once owned by Octan.

 

“Ever thought about driving a normal car instead of the old “Master Builder Catcher” B.?” Emmet asked, fumbling with his keys. Bad Cop paused from unlocking his own door, cup of coffee on the hood. He glanced over, giving his boyfriend one of those intensive stares. 

 

“I… take that as a no then?”, asked the now nervous Master Builder.

 

“I… We, like the cruiser. Until it can’t function anymore, we’re stickin’ to using it anyway we can. You can say… we’re spoiled. Kinda hard to go back t’ anythin’ else.” Bad finally explained, then dropped the scowl. “Ye know yer welcomed t’ride with us to and from work.” He offered.

 

Emmet listened then slowly returned the smirk on his face. “Nah, don’t want my friends getting the wrong impression and…” He paused, opening the door to his small sudan. “I’m spoiled.”

 

Bad stood still for a few seconds, staring at Emmet as if in disbelief at having some of his words be taken from his mouth. Then, out from nowhere, he lets out a good, hard laugh. A rare occurrence, but one all the same. So hard in fact, he had to lift the aviators slightly to wipe away a few watery tears. 

 

“So it would seem that way. Alright Brickwoski, ye win this time.” The officer managed to say, all thought his voice between the chuckles sounded like a combination of both and Bad and Good’s voices.

 

“We’ll see you this evenin’, Emmet. Try not to get into too much trouble that we’re called out to.” He finished, waving Emmet off then snatched his coffee and slipped right into his cruiser.

 

The Cops were always first to leave out, followed closely by Emmet’s car for three blocks until the two parted ways, Emmet going West to pick up the highway towards the construction site and the Cops heading North towards the police station. Soon as the Special was out of sight, does the officer swaps eyewear again. There was a long sighing breath, Good staring at the aviators without a word to himself. Something felt off, even as the darkened glasses were tucked away with care. 

 

So focused in his daze, Good nearly forgotten the light changing. He glanced up just in time, letting out a quiet “Oh.” before proceeding forward. No one behind him honked their horns or shouted for him to move with the light. Would you risk angering President Business’s former right hand, whom for eight and a half years managed to capture, wrangle, and round up Master Builders down to the point of making it akin to sport hunting?

 

Good took the scenic route, winding through parts of Bricksburg that was more greenery with private gardens or parks dotting the area. It just felt nicer to look at something other than buildings butted up against each other with new billboards from Octan now promoting creativity instead of hammering down Business’s once strict rules. It made Good Cop smile at the now relaxed city, until he turned the radio on for some music.

 

Same old song, being played for the zillionth time, and regardless of who was in ‘control’, it was a song less desired to be heard.

 

“Ugh! When are they gonna make somethin’ new? So tired of hearing this on repeat, day in and day out. Probably will be hearing this till the day I die. Then we’ll see if ‘everything’s awesome’ as they say it is.” He whined namely to himself before switching over to the police radio. Okay, maybe he should take Emmet’s advice. Think positive. He was his own boss now. The station was far better with no being kicked, or shoved, and pushed around by Lord Business anymore. No more death threats for failing a job, no more being hauled up by the back of his neck like a kitten and slammed against a window, no more dangerous Relics that loomed over head…

 

No more…

 

The memory flashed through Good’s eyes, nearly slamming the brakes in the middle of the intersection. He took a deep breath, readjusted his glasses before continuing onward.

 

“I..I can do this. I’m my own boss. Yes! I AM the boss. No more torture or chasing down innocent people. No more pain. Just me and.. ye-yeah.” He coached himself while driving around the front of the station after coming up on it. The cruiser rolls around to the right, entering the parking garage for the station’s patrol units. Driving up to the top open level, Good gazed at himself in the rear-view mirror. There was a long stare, eyes locked onto themselves. Studying and gazing into those details, as if looking for something that should be there. Another few moments pass by, and he at last grins.

 

“I’m going t’ be the best chief this city’s ever seen.” Good Cop stated with pride and exited the cruiser for the station below, ready to take on the world anew.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Business as usual, eh? Not your ordinary mundane police work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally after over three years, I've finally managed the time to continue working on this particular fanfiction. I apologize to all those who have had been patiently waiting, not knowing if this story would ever be updated since it's last update. Thank you for holding out this long. As for the future of this story, updates will be sporadic, having to balance IRL things and events that may dampen my motivation towards story writing so I ask for old and new readers to continue on with your patience. Think of it like a unexpected surprise, out of nowhere and exciting to see what it is. 
> 
> May the future bring in better inspirations to keep on writing.  
> ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“Everyone look sharp! Chief’s in!” 

 

Good Cop stood tall in the doorway to the police station, his fellow human officers all coming to attention to see him enter. It wasn’t any different than when he worked alongside OCTAN’s SWATbots, but at least here he felt more or less, right at home. With a deep sigh, heavy boots entered through the threshold. 

"At ease everyone, what do you have fer me t'day Jones?" He approached one of the desks where one officer worked tirelessly at, folders of paperwork stacked up. 

"Just a few case approvals here and there Boss. Seems like it's going to be one of those days." The man replied, handing the superior a handful of documents to be read over and signed for approval. Good merely nodded in reply.

"Aye, as is most days." He said, taking the folders and heading for his office. A day of filling out paperwork, just like yesterday and the day before that.

Bricksburg after Taco Tuesday had begun to show less and less crime, thanks to Master Builders able to help keep a watch on things. Sure there were the few normal crimes here and there, no city was perfectly free of illegal activity, period. Yet, it sadden Good as he sat down in the worn out leather chair at his desk and flops the document folders with a short huff. He missed going out on missions or at least patrols where he got some action. Being a chief of police wasn't nearly as exciting. Especially now... without..

Good cleared his throat, shaking his head some before turning to proceed with the papers. Prison transfers, one approval for an officer to do charity work on a weekend, paper... papers... papers. The soundproof room made the silence seem so much more empty while the scratching of a pen on paper became almost quite unbearable. Only when he got the occasional phone call did the small spiral of madness paused in its routine. 

"Chief Bad Cop 'ere." The officer spoke, his voice deeper and more stern of his other half. Bad Cop always answered the phone, otherwise no one took Good seriously with his soft voice and demeanor. Slightly disappointing in a way, but otherwise tolerable.

"Hello, my name is Jon Wilkes and I work for the Bricksburg Monthly. I was wondering if I could perhaps schedule an interview with you regarding the past events that occurred over Tac-" Started the voice on the other side to which Bad Cop immediately cuts in.

"No, I am not interested in anoth'r interview ov'r th' events that happened durin' that dreadful day. You can find all that ye need in the city hall records and past interviews from other reports. Now if yer still hell bent, I can forward this call to m' lieutenant and have him give ye all th' details. Ye know I am a busy man so please excuse m' rashness." 

There was a pause on the other line, the reporter either taken back by the response or was trying to think of another tactic. Bad knew how these guys worked and the sound of the man's voice let the officer know this was no greenhorn. The reporter pushed onward with his questioning.

"Oh I see. Well I was really hoping to get a personal interview with yourself, Sir. After all, I know how the other newspapers have painted you in the past and rest assured it won't be the same here. We understand how things went so we just want to show that you aren't that bad." 

"That's what th' Brick Gazette said two months ago. Now I can't show m' face much in th' Pennington district without so much as a death glare from th' locals. If ye really want a report and put me in as th' good guy, I have a list of names you can contact that are not as busy as I am." Bad returned, keeping up his defense.

"Master Builders I assume? Well, there still are people who would love to see those people gone since many of them don't put back what they create. Not exactly a good source material - "

Bad growled, "I have m' sources and they are more than reliable. Now if this conversation is ov'r, I'd like t' get back t' business before I have one of m' team members arrest ye fer antagonizing an officer and disturbin' th' peace. Thank ye Mr. Wilkes. We're done here."

The reporter went silent again and before he could say anything Bad went to hang up the phone. However, as he hovered his hand above the receiver to slam it down enough just to give that guy an earful on the other line, something caught his attention. It was faint, coming from the phone itself. So, slowly... He brought it back up to listen.

It wasn't the reporter on the other side, but the sounds of something shuffling, things being bumped around, scratching sounds. There was also the sound of a muffled voice, then two, now five. More than one person in the room. Something didn't sit right.

"... Mr. Wilkes? Hello?"

Suddenly there's a panicked scream from a woman and finally the phone was answered.

"Help! There's one of those monsters in the break room! Uh, uh.. Dup..uh.. what are those things!? Big multi-colored squishy, googley-eyed-"

"Duplos! Find a place t' hide, I'm on it. Do not let it find any sweets!" Bad shouts, already standing up from his desk.

"It already ate all the sugar from the break room! Oh Man Upstairs it's coming for-" The reporter shouts before another scream from the background. Just before the line was cut off, the tell-tale childlike voice from the alien echoed in the background.

"We aRe tHE DuPlO AnD we goIng TO DEsTRoy yoU."

"Not on m' life." Bad growls, slamming the phone down with a hard enough force for the plastic to give way with a small crackling sound. 

Rising from his chair, the officer grabbed his gear, rushing out of his office and immediately pointing to three officers with a snap of his leather gloves.

"You three! I need ye fer back-up. Alien activity at th' Bricksburg Monthly building! I want this t' be o' police concerns, do NOT contact any Master Builder on th' matter. I will not be responsible fer some hyper-go-lucky Builder who thinks he can do th' work of a cop better than we can. Let's move!" He shouted over the now ringing phones in various locations as more and more calls started to pour in.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

The police garage roared to life as the BC-01 rocketed out of the opening, tires squealing down rubber tread to the pavement while three normal cruisers pulled up the rear. Bad’s grip to the steering wheel was iron locked, eyes narrowed and hard focused. The three units behind him had trouble keeping up against the custom cruiser, made only more difficult when the vehicle made swerving around busy traffic look like ballet dance.

Halfway en route, Bad released the tension on his shoulders, and letting a smile appear on his face. Finally, a chase! Something he was good at that didn’t involve being behind a desk weeks on end with maybe one patrol route once every two to three weeks. It made his heart nearly skipped a beat, something that made him and him alone feel special, feel important, feel needed. 

“I’ll show them all they’ve come t’ invade th’ wrong city.” He muttered under his breath. Glancing to the radio, the officer swiftly swipes it up with one hand, eyes still glued to the road.

“All units, this is BC-01, I need you t’ form a barrier around the building upon arrival. Do not let those alien scum try to escape. I dun care if ye use firepower, just make sure all civilian are out o’ th’ way! I’m goin’ inside t’ rescue any reporters trapped inside.” He orders, the Bricksburg Monthly office building coming to view. He could see the gaping hole on the side of the building, large with chew marks dripping of what could appear to be melting jelly. Soon as the BC-01 skids to a halt in front of the terrified crowd looking on, he finishes his radio call before stepping out.

“And fer th’ love of th’ Man Upstairs, NO MASTER BUILDERS!”

After a pause to check himself once more in the rearview mirror, Bad stared at the crack in his aviator glasses. A hand reached up, his left, and thumbed over the crack side on the right. No one notices… no one knows. A deep breath, and the officer gathered all he could to face down this menace. 

“Just like old times.”

Bad Cop stepped out of the cruiser, staring up at the office building and mentally counting the floors. The attack occurred on the tenth floor. Of course it would be up that high. He took one small moment to glance around him, seeing his fellow officers already sectioning off the front area of the building and street in yellow police tape. Grabbing a megaphone, he directs it towards the fearful civilians watching.

“Attention everyone! This is official police work, please do not attempt t’ interfere or cause harm or injury. If you have loved ones inside, we will ensure their safe recovery. We are doing all we can, please stay back behind the yellow lines!”

Once it looked like the general public was heeding his commands, Bad Cop turned to the closest officer near him and signaled to come over before putting away the megaphone and locking up the BC-01.

“Evans, keep the public under control. Me and two officers will scale th’ buildin’. Make sure no civilian tries t’ get in and that goes fer Master Builders as well. This isn’t their fight.” He commanded.

“But Sir, what if it’s too dangerous?” The younger cop asked, looking worried for his chief. 

“Don’t fret it, I’ve been in more hostile situations than ye can shake a chair at. This is slice o’ cheesecake fer someone like me.” Bad replied, grinning with the response only a seasoned officer could reveal showing off the air of pride in one’s work and skills. Receiving a nod and salute, Bad refocuses his attention back to the office building. Laser blaster in hand, he signals for two officers to follow behind and the trio immediately entered the building. 

The officer’s first sign was the heavy smell of smoke coming from the ventilation shafts, followed by a scent one could only describe as something sickly sweet mixed with body odor after a heavy workout. It caused Bad to snort out the scent a few times, before signalling with one hand to his back-up. 

“Keep an eye out, these things can mimic items temporarily. Pay attention to the smell, if it smells like th’ worst bottl’ o’ whiskey ye’ve ever tasted, that’s them.” He instructs. “We’ll take th’ stairs. They’ll expect us t’ use th’ elevator.” The pair nodded and follow behind Bad, leading them to the building’s stairway. Bad let out a heavy sigh, he hated stairs. Well, at least ten floors was better than being forced that one time to walk all the stairs up to Business’s office for a punishment. That was just a mild one too.

“Think we should call for a fire squad?” One officer whispered as they began the climb upwards. 

“Building’s not on fire. The Duplo have some sort o’ tech that eats through metal n’ glass like it’s paper, leaves a burnin’ like scent. It’s so they won’t get cooked themselves durin’ th’ attack. That’s one of their weaknesses.” Bad explained. Blaster held out, he scanned through each turn of the stairway, pausing to crane his neck over this and that, seeking out any movement. So far, everything was silent. In a way, that was good, majority of the reporters and writers must of evacuated from the building already. Just the people trapped on the tenth floor offices that need rescuing. 

By the time they reached the sixth floor, Bad paused to take a tiny breather, his feet starting to ache inside the old leather boots. He mentally made note to get back in shape and to look for a new pair of boots. How long had he worn this pair? The thought was briefly interrupted when they were suddenly greeted with the sound of a door slamming open and closed several times like a bored child playing with it.

Bad glanced to his back-up, signaling with his hands silently to watch their surroundings and be quiet. They eased up the next flight, then the next. Ninth floor was approaching and at last they could see one of their targets.

A tall, pink and green globulus creature with one giant googly eye and a tuft of reddish hair like structure stood before the door to the ninth floor, opening and closing it with one misshapen arm larger than the other. It seemed curious in its mechanics, letting out a soft churring sound with each pull of the door and letting go of the handle. Its large single eye seemed unfocused, jumbling around back and forth and side to side like a toy, wiggling around to grasp onto exactly where and what it was doing. 

One of the backup officers blinked a few times in disbelief having never seen the extraterrestrial beings before. Here he had figured Duplo were some form of the typical ‘green men’ one would often see in comics and cartoons. He went to raise his handgun, looking to take off a shot before one of Bad’s gloved hands reached up to push it down. Strangely enough, the push was not forceful or quick, but cautious and soft.

“Not yet. Dunno if there’s a civilian nearby. Don’t want th’ bullet t’ bounce off th’ walls and hit someone.” He whispers in warning.  
Getting a silent nod, the chief slowly moves on ahead, holding one hand to the side to keep his fellow officers back. Once high enough, Bad edges his head around the corner of the stairs and railing, watching the Duplo still fidgeting with the door. His eyes darted around the area, seeking some way to get this thing away from the door without alerting its own kind. With no other option in sight, he slowly raises his blaster, two fingers slowly turning a tiny unnoticeable dial by the trigger. Now the blaster went from firing single shots to streaming a deadly laser.

Without a sound or warning, Bad Cop fired upon the Duplo, the laser’s hot beam aiming right for the head region. In mere seconds, the alien menace started to screech only to expand and explode into a hot, sticky mess of gooey bits. Taking a few seconds to be sure, Bad gestures his hand for his backup to follow. 

“This way, make sure th’ remnants are completely destroyed, lest they’ll grow back n’ multiply.” He explains, then points to a fire extinguisher. “Cold works just as well as heat.” Leaving one officer to clean the mess and serve as lookout, Bad and the remaining officer proceed to enter into the ninth floor. 

Unlike the other floors, the hallways were littered with papers from desks half destroyed or turned over. A water cooler laid on its side, the jug sporting a large gash on one side with water mostly spilled out. The walls appeared burned in places while other locations appeared to of been part of some child’s twisted candyland treat with burned and sticky results. Then in came the smell. Both Bad Cop and his officer winced and with one hand, covered their noses. 

“Oh gosh, it’s like summer camp with too many marshmallows.” The younger officer mutters under his breath. 

“Aye.. try not t’ touch anythin’ sticky then. It’s like a trackin’ device or somethin’ to them. Can’t fully explain how or why. Just know it’s all bad stuff.” Bad replies before drawing his attention towards the end of the hall near a broken window panel. “Stay close.”

Slowly and cautiously, the two officers made their way down the hall, careful where to place their foot and poised with guns in hand for any potential danger. After a few passings of broken or cracked glass office walls, Bad pauses, noticing a broom closet with deep scratch marks into the wood. Narrowing his eyes in thought, it didn’t take two and two together to figure out the narrow thin light emitting from underneath the closet door meant one of two things: One - the reporters or at least one, was hiding inside or two, a Duplo was trapped inside. 

Gesturing his hand to hold his fellow officer back, he approaches the closet door alone. He presses his left shoulder to the wall, listening for any sound, any movement. After a few seconds, he gingerly taps on the door. Bad holds his breath slightly the moment a shadow lingers in to block the closet’s light and sighs out his nose when the knock was responded.

“Ss...someone there?”

“Yes.. this is th’ police. How many people are in there?” Bad responds, trying to keep his voice low enough not to be detected but raised enough to be heard.

“Four, please help. Those monsters are still out there. I think they got Wilkes!” 

“Where was he last? I’ll find ‘em.” 

There was a pause and whispering amongst the reporters hiding. 

“Near the break room. That’s where most of the monsters went for! Please hurry.”

Grabbing his radio, Bad glances once to his fellow officer before pressing the button. 

“Evans, I need ye t’ come in th’ ninth floor n’ down th’ left wing. There’s some civilians trapped ‘ere. I’m headin’ towards th; break room for a possible survivor. Keep noise levels down, we don’t want those bloody things onto us.”

After getting a confirmation, Bad proceeds pass the collective of office cubicles for the small break room on the other side. He turns towards his fellow officer Goodfellow, gesturing only with his hands to stay put with the reporters till the coast was clear to evacuate them. Goodfellow merely nods, holding his pistol close to his side for protection yet the expression on his face was worrisome. It wasn’t just for the safety of the people hiding in the supply closet, but for his chief’s safety as well. 

Stepping over turned over office chairs and trash bins, office decor like fake plants and knick-knacks, Bad poked and prodded with a worn boot at any and every possible hiding place a Duplo could be lurking within. Once he mentally deemed the main rows of cubicles were clear does he head for the break room in the far back. It was a mere insert of a room with no doors, just big enough for a half dozen people at best. That’s when his sense of smell was socked in the face with the pungent scent of overly sickening smell of something akin to a burning candy store. 

“Augh…” He groans, covering his nose with the sleeve of his leather jacket before approaching closer and eases his field of view into the room. 

The coffee machine was half covered in some sort of pinkish red slime and all the cabinet doors flung open with some barely hanging by their hinges, some ripped off completely. Paper cups and napkins were scattered across the counters and floor with the break room table shoved away at an angle, some of the chairs broken in two, pink slime coating in places. It was then that Bad spotted a pair of cabinet doors held shut, a torn pound bag of sugar in front of them. 

Seeing as the coast was clear, Bad slips into the room, blaster held at the hip. “Wilkes? Jon Wilkes? Ye here?” He hisses through his teeth, trying to remain quiet but loud enough to be heard through the cabinet doors. Slowly, one door creaks open and a scruffy blond guy pokes through to see.

“Bad Cop? Oh.. wh-what a surprise. Heh, I guess th-this is a bad time for that interview eh?” The man jokes, his voice slightly nervous after the recent events.

Holstering his blaster, the older officer shakes his head as he kneels to help the other out of his hiding place. “Save it fer when this whole ordeal is finished. We still need t’ get ye and yer co-workers out o’ the buildin’ before those things come back t’ finish the job.” 

Wilkes takes a hold of Bad’s hand, noting his strong yet assuring grip. He had heard tales that if Bad Cop grabs you, it was like gridiron, nothing could escape those hands and yet even in this intense moment there was a sliver of tenderness in that hand. Like that of someone really caring and trying to make sure they didn’t do any harm to the person it was holding. Certainly something off from Bad Cop’s perceived character as most of the Master Builders would say.

“On yer feet, we need t’ get ye and yer co-workers out before those things return. Darn Duplo won’t stop till they’ve licked every scrap n’ speck of sugary substance from an area.” Bad warns, keeping his grip on Wilkes till the man was sure he could stand on his own. “Where did ye see it last?”

“Uh…” The reporter started, trying to remember during the attack how many were there and how he fled to the breakroom when someone tried to lure one of the creatures away with a piece of candy from their cubicle. Slowly, he tilts his head up, and almost immediately his eyes grew wide. “Uhhh..”

“What?” Bad was only able to say as he turns around to see what the man was staring at enough to catch his tongue before he knew what it him.

Hanging from the corner of the ceiling in its own reddish-pink goo and slime was the missing Duplo. The creature was merely a fat blob with two sets of tendril arms fasten with bluish colored hook like claws. Its head vaguely resemble that to a alligator, curling at the more triangular ends in opposite directions, lined with a mismatch assortment of twisted needle like teeth. A pair of bulbous, fish eyes in pale pink and white starred the pair down, making gurgling sounds. Before Bad Cop could react and make a move, the alien screeches out and proceeds to body tackle the chief of police.

Bad Cop fell to the floor with a heavy thud to his back, feeling the radio press up against him as the weight of the Duplo continued to slowly crush and suffocate him. “R-Run!” He manages to shout before the bloated monster shifts its mass over, intending to cover the cop completely. Wilkes panics and races off without a second glance, thinking for sure the elder officer was done for. What he doesn’t see behind him as he races down the walkway is the Duplo being lifted a few inches off the ground just enough for Bad Cop to jump kick it up against the glass window of the break room, splattering some of itself. 

The officer coughed a few times, a few bits of slime on his face that he quickly wipes away to clear his vision. Only to realize as Bad ran his hand across his face, something was painfully missing and his chest tighten at once. Brows furrowed into a clenched seam and teeth ache from the pressure of being clamped down with such force as to only mean one thing and one thing only.

You do not take Bad Cop’s signature aviator sunglasses for any reason or exception.

At once, out from the officer came what could only be described as a primal rage induced cry before those familiar gridiron fists came rearing up to wallop the Duplo square across the face after it gurgles its way back towards the cop from the shove against the window. It lets out a screech, pieces of pinkish goo splattering nearly everywhere as the officer continues to hammer away, leaving indentations in the gummy like flesh of the alien. He was foregoing his trusty laser blaster, and for good reason as to not accidentally melt his pair of aviators. 

“Give those back ye jelly-filled… son of a…!” Bad growls out, each word matched with a smack or a heavy punch until finally he feels his hand slip pass the more rubbery skin of the alien menace and into the hot gooey internals. He grimaces at the sensation of heat closely resembling one getting burned by low temperature heating hot glue, but with hast searches till his fingers brushed up against something metal and hard. With a satisfied smirk, the officer rips his hand away, pink and red jelly like goo erupting from the action. Smeared in the gooey substance, Bad retrieved back his aviators. Looks like he’ll have to do some serious cleaning to get the gunk off.

Snatching a napkin off the floor, Bad Cop does his best to clean the aviator glasses to a wearable state before placing them back on. “And THAT… is why we don’t want yer kind around ‘ere!” He sneers to the goopy pile of what remained of the Duplo before turning his back to it to leave, feeling like his job was done.

With a gargling hiss, the battered monster slowly peeled away from the window, wounds sealing back up before letting out a splattering cough. New tendrils sprouted, armed with harden hook ends.

“NooOooOOoOoOo! MiNE!” 

Bad Cop whipped around, using his left leg to roundhouse kick the alien back away, only for two of those hooked tendrils to get ahold of him. With a good yank, the Duplo forced the older officer down to the floor with a heavy thud. He grimaces at the sharp pain, reflecting back on how he usually as faster than that to counteract against an attacker. Bad reaches for his blaster, intending to blow the monster’s face into a gaping crater to bide himself time to escape its clutches. Apparently, however, the creature had wisen up to his weapon and proceeded to snatch away the blaster, tossing it out of reach behind its bulk. The officer struggled, only getting more of those tendrils to wrap around him.

The Duplo hisses, splitting apart it’s long triangular mouth to reveal a mismatch assortment of teeth all jammed together. 

“wE WiLL DeSTroY YOu!” The monster gurgles out, and proceeds to aim those jaws straight for Bad Cop’s head. It would seem like Bad was about to have one sticky ending. He tenses up, ready to fight and struggle till his last breath should this thing manages to completely engulf him whole. Well… it would seem like that would be the end for ole’ Bad Cop.

“Hey blubber face!”

The alien halted its attack on Bad Cop and choosing to lean back up, maw still agape for having been disturbed from its newfound ‘meal’. Bad barely is able to move his head towards the direction of the voice, eyes widen as the alien suddenly gets a face full of what appears to be a giant megaton styled hammer. The creature screeches as the weight and strength of said weapon made contact with the opening of its mouth, sending it shooting for the break room, releasing Bad Cop in the process.

Letting out a few dry coughs to catch his breath, he finally gazes back up towards his rescuers’ weapon. It was a giant hammer, but once Bad’s vision focused more intently, his body tenses up, and realizes the hammer was nothing more than scraps of metal and office parts, all pulled together and fused to create the mighty weapon. This was no mere artwork from a welder’s craft. This was the work of a Master Builder. Bad’s eyes followed down the hammer’s shaft to a familiar pair of hands then up towards a even more familiar face and he stood there, his own lower lip slightly ajar in bewilderment and amazement. 

“Sorry Sir, I know you said no to this sort of interaction during a police investigation, but I couldn’t get a clear pistol shot without the possibility of hitting you. So, I just… ran on instinct.”

“Goodfellow? Yer a Master Builder?” Bad finally managed to reply, still trying to wrap around the fact. Yes, he made the orders earlier to not have Master Builders involve namely because Duplo seem to really have a high interest in attacking them more than after anything sugary they naturally crave. He didn’t, however, expect one of his men, his own police officers, to be one of those material wielders himself. “Why didn’t ye tell me sooner?”

The younger man shrugged, “ I would of eventually. Just was tryin’ to find the right time.” 

“Well, seems like th’ time’s now. I’ll let this slide since yer one of m’ best. Fer now, we have unfinished business t’ attend to.” Bad turns to view behind him, watching the Duplo slowly start to reform back, shifting and convulsing to suit it against the pair of police officers. Soon as the jaws reform, this time splitting into four triangular ends, Bad tenses up. “Now!” He shouts, ducking downward for Goodfellow to leap over him, taking a swing at the alien’s face. The hammer makes contact with one of the four corners of the jaws, sending a chunk of gummy flesh flying across the room. 

The Duplo screeches, leaning back from having a chunk of jaw removed and is unable to recover an attack back as Goodfellow wallops another heavy swing into the girth of gummy mass, leaving a heavy impression. This gave Bad Cop enough time to dash between them, hands reaching out as he does a front tuck and roll. His fingers snatched the prized laser blaster, and the moment he’s out of the roll, the officer flips around, blaster at the ready.

“Goodfellow, watch out!” He shouts and fires.

Searing hot red beams pulsed from the white and red accented weapon, burning away at the alien’s flesh. It screeches again, tendrils whipping around in fevered frenzy to stop the older cop’s assaults. A tendril shoots out, only for the other officer to take his hammer to it, gummy flesh pieces scattering everywhere from the force. With Goodfellow leaned downward, it gave Bad Cop the chance to make one finally attack. Taking the initiative, Bad leaps up, one boot launching off Goodfellow’s back and into the air.

“Destroy this!” He shouts, setting the blaster from pulse to full on beam. Firing off, it was a constant stream of deadly laser heat enough to melt some metals. 

The Duplo screams out one last time as the heat causes its body to swell immediately, colors fading to near white then black from being roasted from the inside out. Bad Cop halts his attack, grabbing Goodfellow on the way down and ducks them both behind the turned table just in time for the alien to implode into several burnt pieces of gummy flesh all over the breakroom. Once the smoke cleared, Bad cautiously peeks over, surveying the area before standing back on his feet, Goodfellow following suit in response to his chain of command.

“Think that’s it Sir? Did we defeat it?” The younger officer asks after a short moment of silence, taking a moment to part away a section of rusty brown hair from his face.. Bad Cop remained silent a little longer, eyes behind the aviators darting to each burnt or quivering small giblets of Duplo. 

“Fer now, yeah. However I still want a disposal n’ clean up crew up ‘ere pronto before any uncooked pieces reform t’ make a new army of these things.” Bad turned his attention to a piece of reflective metal on the ground, staring at his reflection. With a soft frown, he reaches up and removes his aviators, expression a mix of stern yet softened. “‘M sorry buddy. Didn’t mean t’ get it all messy..” He whispers, voice soft and quiet.

Goodfellow glanced back to his chief, raising an eyebrow at the behavior. “Sir? Are you alright? Do you need any medical assistance?” He asks.

The older officer clears his throat, tenderly placing the aviators back on. “I’m fine. Has everyone evacuated th’ buildin’? No more Duplo sightings?” He requests, voice back to the firm and husky tone.

Shaking his head, Goodfellow nods towards the exit. “No Sir, everyone’s outside with help from backup and that’s the last of the Duplo. That last reporter darted out the door before I could stop him, that’s when I saw the skirmish you were trapped in.” 

“Good, then let’s proceed back out and have a few officers interview the reporters for eye witness accounts. I want t’ pattern out these alien scum so future attacks are preventable.” Bad lets out a long breath of air, letting off some proverbial weight off his chest. However, he knew the moment he was back on solid ground, the area would be swarmed with rival news reporters, all clamouring for a front page story. 

“And Goodfellow.. Please revert what ye created. I’m already gonna be stressed out with cameras and microphones down there, I don’t want t’ see a bill for office equipment being used for intergalactic warfare as a builder.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Once he stepped back outside of the news building, Bad Cop stiffened at the arrival of a horde of news reporters from rival papers and television. Microphones clamoring for the center eager to record any and every detail that would emit from the chief of police. Thank goodness his expression was hidden behind the thick aviator glasses, not wanting to deal with this. 

“Bad Cop, can we get your side of the story? Did you really single handedly defeat the alien attackers?!”

“Can you address the state of the city? Are these alien attacks the work of President Business’s foiled plans from Taco Tuesday?”

“Hey, can we confirm all these alien attacks are the results of unchecked Master Builder activity?”

“Would you please answer our questions?!”

Finally, the officer had enough, holding his right hand up to silence them all. He takes a moment to glance to his partner then returns his attention back to the crowd. Oh how he detested those dreadful cameras and microphones.

“The monsters in questions have been dealt with, and a clean up crew has been sent to ensure none of the blighters returns. However, I advise to any workplace and home that these attacks will increase. Fer now th’ only way to prevent the possibility of another attack is to keep all sugar based food items in sealed containers. Grain sugars, candies, even breakfast cereals should be kept in airtight containers, any spills cleaned up immediately and disposed off away from populated locations. These aliens feed off of anythin’ containing sugar and if there isn’t enough once discovered, will readily attack citizens for proteins and sugars stored in th’ body. “ Bad explained, giving a grunt as he cleared his throat part way through the explaination.

“The relation between Duplo, the Master Builders, and th’ timing after that dreadful event is merely coincidental. They’ arrive regardless if Taco Tuesday occurred or not. The Master Builders are doing what they can to help keep th’ peace but th’ city of Bricksburg needs to rely on their police and rescue forces first and foremost. Should you come into contact with Duplo in the future, please do not hesitate to call fer police help. We are more than capable of handlin’ these unwelcome visitors. I shall deliver a more detail report from which you all may attend to interview when th’ time sees it most appropriate. Now if ye all will excuse me, I have a duty t’ continue performing.”

Ending the announcement, Bad pushed aside the reporters, all still clamoring for attention for any additional details. Finally arriving back at the cruisers, the chief turns back to Goodfellow, and removes his helmet off, running a gloved hand through damp, sweaty hair.

“Ah.. I’m as wet as a plow horse.” He comments as he removes his gloved hand away.

“Nah, not really Sir. I’ve seen plenty a steed that could look like polished stone yet smelled like wet hay.” Goodfellow responded. 

The older man raised an eyebrow. “Country boy eh?” 

Goodfellow shrugged, but gave a soft nod. “Something like that Sir. I did spend a lot of time around horses before moving to the city to become a police officer.”

“Heh, ye ought t’ look into joinin’ th’ mounted squad. Bit more relaxing at least. Mostly patrolling th’ city parks and more higher end districts.”

“I considered it SIr, maybe something in the future. Right now, I’m happy where I am currently.”

Bad slowly blinked at the younger officer then smirks just slightly, yet noticeable. “Ah, well I don’t train the best officers fer nothin’ but parade shows.” He chuckles, which brings out a chuckle from Goodfellow. “And uh...we’ll talk about the um..talents later in private. Now I’m not condemnin’ it, but ye know I like t’ keep things in line, mangable. I like t’ make sure no one gets hurt from m’ mistakes...not again.”

“Again… Sir?” Goodfellow tilted his head to the right, confusion barely visible on his face. What was his chief hinting at?

Bad waved a hand, dismissing the question. “Nothin’ worth worrying about.” He explains before placing the helmet back on. “Alright, I need ye t’ stay behind and help take care with clean up procedures. I’m headin’ back t’ th’ station and finish up unfinished business.” 

Goodfellow nods, giving a quick salute. “Right ho Sir. I’ll bring in all the reports soon as they come in.” 

Giving a nod back in acknowledgement, Bad Cop smiles before returning to his more stern and neutral expression while returning back into his cruiser. Taking one last look to the younger officer, he could sense the man had a lot of potential as a police officer, though would Master Building get in the way of that potential? Only time would tell, a secret that would need to be unlocked at a later date. With a slow ease out, the BC-01 drove from the scene, returning back towards the station. The day wasn’t over yet, but at least for Bad Cop, he got his moment to be out from the office and be the field cop he once enjoyed.

A quick glance to the rearview mirror and the man removes his aviators, pocketing them in the breast pocket of his leather jacket. 

“We… We did good out there, didn’t we?” Good whispered, replacing Bad’s voice before even placing his glasses on. “Yeah… I think I did a pretty good job.” A tired smile raised from corner to corner on Good Cop’s face while returning his view on the road.

“I hope he’s proud of me.”


End file.
